


Let's Stop Holding Back on This and Let's Get Carried Away

by sometimesmaybe



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Sherlock wants to tie the knot, it's a 'no' for joan, the travesty that was joancroft never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimesmaybe/pseuds/sometimesmaybe
Summary: Their relationship wasn't just fine as it was. It was good. Really good. There was no need to fix it. There was no need to make things “official”. There was no need, as she had been trying to explain to Sherlock, to get married.





	Let's Stop Holding Back on This and Let's Get Carried Away

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: I have no knowledge of anything that happened after maybe...episode 5 of Season 4. So if anything here conflicts with that, you know why.

Joan and Sherlock had been arguing for two weeks now, and she still didn’t quite understand why. It didn’t make sense. Neither she nor Sherlock had ever been thrilled at the idea of having a “conventional” relationship, but she thought that they had managed to come close enough.

They were in a committed, monogamous relationship.

 

They lived together.

 

They had a turtle.

 

White picket fences and vans to stuff the kids’ junior softball teammates in were out of the picture, yes. Their career was admittedly dangerous and intensive, yes. And yes, Joan still kept up her old bedroom so that she could retreat there when she needed to have her own space that wasn't a slightly modified basement. Outside of that, however, nothing about them was that much different from any other couple.

But that was neither here nor there. What mattered was that their relationship wasn't just fine as it was. It was good. Really good. Any doubts that Joan had harbored at the beginning had almost completely disappeared. They both felt certain that this was the real deal.

Which is why it made absolutely no sense to rock the boat. There was no need to fix something that wasn’t broken. There was no need to make things “official”. There was no need, as she had been trying to explain to Sherlock these last few weeks, to get married.

* * *

 

It had happened when they were in bed, recovering. She was listening to the slowing of his heartbeat while he chattered on about a 1923 cold case that he had solved this morning.

She was only half paying attention. Sex always made her feel wonderfully lazy, and anyway she had solved the case the night before as a challenge. But her focus sharpened when she heard him pause and mention her brother.

“You spoke to Oren the other day, did you not?” She peeked up at him. “I know we’re finished, but this still very much counts as ‘ruining the mood’. Why are you asking me about my brother?” He looked like the picture of innocence. “I just wanted to see how he was. I’m being considerate. Is there anything wrong with that?” Joan narrowed her eyes. “You never mention Oren, but ok. I’ll play along. He’s doing fine. Gabrielle’s pregnancy is going well. She’s due in about seven weeks.” The little “Hmph!” sound that came from Sherlock would have made her smile if she wasn't so suspicious. “That’s good. Marriage seems to suit him.” Her stomach tightened for some reason she couldn't yet articulate.

“Yes. It does…”

He nodded. “Marriage can be very beneficial to both parties involved. The institution has a poor reputation, and I’ll admit that it’s for some very valid reasons. It certainly isn’t perfect. But. It also isn’t without its charms.”

Her stomach twisted again. She started to panic.

 _Oh please be quiet_ , she begged.

But he didn’t stop talking. He just avoided her eyes and kept going. “The key – or so I’ve heard – is to have a very good friendship as a basis. The people involved should also know each other very, very well, and they must be able to compromise.”

“Oh my God.”

“Knowing this and knowing _you_ , I think that it’s something that would suit you. Marriage.”

Joan took a deep breath and sat up. “I just want to make sure that I understand what’s happening right now. You’re proposing?”

“Not exactly. I won’t get on bended knee and appeal to your romantic sensibilities. There are a lot of practical advantages to getting married. And you always talk about relationships being an evolving thing. I’m just offering you the opportunity to ‘take things to the next level’, as it were.”

“...You mean like a proposal?”

He frowned. “I hate to say this, but I think you’re being a little close-minded.”

There was a pause, wherein she opened and closed her mouth several times in disbelief. When the words didn't come, she opted to get out of bed and start searching their closet for a robe. He threw on a pair of discarded boxers and followed her.

The urge to cut and run started to bubble up in her chest.

“We’ll come back to that comment a little later. What I want to know is…why do you even want to get married? There’s nothing that married couples do or have that we don’t already.”

“Actually…”

And that’s when she knew that he had been practicing this, that he was serious.

“There are several legal benefits and rights afforded only to married couples. One thousand, one hundred and thirty-eight according to your government’s General Accounting Office.”

She threw on a robe. When she turned around, Sherlock was blocking her path of escape. He rolled up on the balls of his feet and clasped his hands behind his back. A poor sign.

“Sherlock –”

“Some of these laws have very serious implications. Especially the ones that are designed to protect you in case of my demise. If I just so happened to be killed tomorrow –”

“Sherlock –”

“My pustule of a brother could inherit everything that I have.”

She began to feel cagey. “Sherlock –”

“But if we were married, New York Law, Code 4-1.1 would ensure –”

“Sherlock!”

He blinked. “Yes?”

“I think that I need to go shower. I’m meeting a client soon. So if I could just…” She placed her hands on his shoulders and gently moved him out of her path.

“Yes, of course. You only have six hours to prepare. Best start now just in case.”

He didn’t flinch when she glared at him. “Don’t worry. I won’t press the subject right now. As I mentioned, knowing when to compromise is very important.”

* * *

To his credit, he didn’t bring it up again for three whole days. That was more restraint than she thought he would show. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed. If only he had restrained himself just a little bit longer. If only he would have just dropped it entirely.

* * *

But Sherlock’s tenaciousness was something that she was very well acquainted with. So she wasn’t surprised one night when he stalked into the kitchen and settled right beside her.

“Hello, Joan.”

She noticed a twitch in his left hand. He was nervous, and he was about to do something that they both knew wouldn’t end well.

“I’ve been thinking about our discussion."

Joan paused from stirring the spaghetti sauce on the stove. “What discussion?”

She knew full well what discussion, but she figured that she might give him an opportunity to abandon this idea…and give herself time to consider her response just in case he didn’t.

“The subject of marriage, I believe, was one that we broached the other day.”

She couldn't believe this was still happening. The sauce smelled really good. The spaghetti would be really good. The sex would be really good. She had been looking forward to both all evening and here was about to ruin it.

She sprinkled seasoning into the saucepan. Her hand shook slightly. “I think I remember. You said something about being run over by a taxi cab...and about marrying me so you could prevent Mycroft from setting up shop in the brownstone and tossing me out onto the streets.”

“A little morbid, but yes. Have you considered it?”

She turned away from him a bit. “Don’t you think that we’re good the way that we are? Why change anything?”

“Well there are the legal advantages that I mentioned. I’d be happy to name them for you. It may take some time because, as I said earlier, there are quite a number of them.”

“If you’re only just considering them, then maybe they’re not that important.”

“I wouldn’t call social security benefits, marital tax deductions, or better health insurance plans ‘unimportant’.”

She felt hot and stuffy and the kitchen was too small and she was annoyed by his placid tone and the fact that he had an answer for everything.

“I – damnit, the sauce is sticking! Look, I…appreciate you thinking ahead about our relationship, but I just don’t think marriage is right for us. I also think that I need to get some air. Watch out for the sauce please.”

She slipped out and away from him before she could register his expression.

* * *

 Although he made casual references to the subject for the next week or so, he seemed to be backing off.

Until today.

Mrs. Hudson was over. She had finished cleaning, but she and Joan had gotten so close that they often talked for an hour or two after the work was done. Mrs. Hudson was enthusing about some 19th century Romanian artwork while Joan sat beside her, smiling and nursing a cup of tea. Mrs. Hudson’s passionate commentary was always more interesting than the subject.

Sherlock arrived home a half hour after the brownstone had finished undergoing its weekly transformation into a neat, respectable apartment. He walked through the door and looked at Joan. She looked back. Their greetings to each other were stilted, but he gave their guest a warm welcome.

Mrs. Hudson’s confusion was plain on her face. It shifted into absolute bewilderment when he asked after her husband.

“How is James? Well, I hope?”

Mrs. Hudson could only stutter. “I…yes. He is.” Sherlock gave a few rapid nods. “I imagine so. A good, healthy marriage often contributes a great deal to a person’s happiness. Studies even show that married couples live longer than unmarried couples. And you yourself have bloomed in the five months since you’ve tied the knot.”

Joan’s face was inflamed. She gritted her teeth. “Sherlock. I'm sure that Mrs. Hudson would prefer to continue the conversation that we were having before you arrived."

"Really? I didn't hear her say that. She seems to be perfectly happy discussing her life as a newlywed. Strangely enough, some people are enthusiastic about getting to spend their lives with the person who they love."

Mrs. Hudson chirped up. “You know! I think it’s time for me to head home!”

Sherlock gave a half-hearted protest that was echoed by Joan. “No, no, I really do have to get home. I’ll see the two of you next week.” She bustled out.

The second that she shut the door, the argument began.

“What is your problem?” Joan hissed.

“I don’t have a problem.” When he trailed out of the room, she followed right behind him.

“Yes, you do. It’s this marriage…thing. And it needs to stop.”

He wheeled around very suddenly, stopping her in her tracks. He looked almost angry.

He never got angry with her.

Frustrated, yes. Annoyed, yes. They both got under each other's skin sometimes.

But he never got angry.

“It’s not a _thing_ , Joan. It’s a very simple request, and I’m having a hard time understanding why it’s so difficult for you to – at the very least – consider it.”

She refused to be intimidated. "It's not that complicated. I have no interest in it."

"Is it because you want to make sure you still have an out, hm? That if things ever really got bad between the two of us, you could leave without a single string to tie you down?"

"Oh, like you did?" He flinched. She felt a little sick at the expression on his face. The shame and the anger blurred together, and she was forced to retreat.

"Hypocrisy aside, I'm glad to know that this whole thing was a trap to keep me here just in case.”

Joan fled up the stairs and into her room.

“Could have gone better."

* * *

 That had been about two hours ago.

For at least an hour, the sounds of Sherlock attacking the single-stick training dummy had echoed up to her room. The noise made it difficult for her to read. The uneasiness she felt made it downright impossible.

This wasn’t good. She wasn’t ready to throw the relationship away over this one fight. She would not allow anyone to say that she had cut and run yet again when things were getting too serious. Especially not this time.

Even if she did feel a little cagey, she had invested too much into this relationship.

She had been with Sherlock – in one capacity or another – for seven years now. She couldn’t exactly remember what it had been like to live completely separately from him, but she did know that it wasn’t something that she wanted to go back to.

Every part of her life had improved one way or the other in these seven years, and she knew for a fact that Sherlock could say the same thing. He would tell her sometimes, when circumstances prevented him from filtering himself. Sometimes when they had finished a case that had kept them up for days.

When they settled down into bed, exhausted to the point that they could barely change clothes, he would explain that she had made things better for him.

He _loved_ her. And she loved him.

Which is why it was so insulting for him to accuse her of having an escape plan.

There was a knock at her door, a shuffle, and then a quiet, “May I come in?"

Joan got up and opened the door. Before she could even get a good look at him, Sherlock stepped into the room and crowded her field of vision. Standing barefoot in front of him was a rude reminder of their height difference. She took one step back.

“It’s not a trap,” he said. His fists balled at his sides as he repeated himself: “It’s not a trap.”

“Then what is it, Sherlock?” she asked gently. There were creases in his forehead when he looked down at her. She wanted to smooth them out. She wanted to go to bed with him and sleep.

“I…would like to marry you.”

“But _why_? That’s what I don’t understand. Why do you want to marry me? And don’t say it’s because of Social Security benefits or inheritance laws or increased serotonin levels.”

Sherlock seemed very sad all of a sudden and she wished again that he would just forget all of this and come to bed.

“I will admit that I have considered that marriage will make it less likely for you to leave. But I also know that being married means having a family. And while I have never expected to have one, I have recently learned that I – ” – he cleared his throat – “ – want to. Have a family. An official one.”

Joan gave in to the urge to hug him, even as she reminded herself that she couldn’t agree to this.

She tried to make her voice easy when she spoke. “I don’t want children, Sherlock. You know that. It’s off the table.”

Above her, he shook his head. His hand came to rest just on her cheek.

“I know. I’m not asking for children. I think that we would make a very good family. On our own.”

He was holding his breath again. She looked up. “You know I’m not going anywhere right? I won’t lie and say that sometimes I don’t get spooked. I won’t say that the idea of marriage didn’t make me feel antsy. But I still stayed. I’ll still stay whenever things get bad.”

A look of relief rolled over his face, and she felt relieved too. The words were out there now, and she meant them. They needed to be said.

“I didn’t know that it meant so much to you. I wish you had told me before. And it doesn’t sound so bad the way you put it. I’ll make you a deal, okay? You just…give me some time to think about it?”

“Of course.” And he was smiling at her in a soft and wonderful way.

**Author's Note:**

> Seven different drafts of this have been sitting in my docs since 2016. I figured that I might as well post it now before I lose the nerve. Let me know if you enjoyed it. :)


End file.
